


A Little Push

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alien Flora & Fauna, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Meddling, Mission Related, Porn, Relationship Advice, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "How's Burnham?" Number One asked, the ghostly holo not at all disguising her smirk."No," Chris said, short.She tilted her head. "I don't believe I asked a yes or no question."Chris shot her an unimpressed look. "No meddling."
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 82
Kudos: 250





	A Little Push

**Author's Note:**

> The world has gone to pot and writing has been slow going. But I've been working on this and figured, I dunno, maybe people want a distraction? So here, have Pike's girl squad running his life. Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1068484.html).

"How's Burnham?" Number One asked, the ghostly holo not at all disguising her smirk. 

"No," Chris said, short. 

She tilted her head. "I don't believe I asked a yes or no question."

Chris shot her an unimpressed look. "No meddling."

"I can't imagine what you mean," she said, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "I'm simply inquiring about one of your bridge officers, who happens to be Spock's sister. It has nothing at all to do with how many times you've mentioned her or the spring in your step."

"No to that, too," he shot back, waving a hand encompassing...everything. 

"Or the twinkle in your eye," she continued, amused. 

"This is stalking, you know," he grumped. 

"Interesting word for friendship." 

" _Friends_ don't meddle."

"When people have wayward crushes they refuse to do anything about, friends _absolutely_ meddle. You've withdrawn from so many, it's understandable you forgot that."

Chris winced. "Jesus, you could pull a punch every now and again."

She regarded him steadily. "That would be very unlike me."

"Fair." Chris sighed. "Burnham is fine," he said, answering the original question. "And no, I won't be pursuing the matter."

"'The matter,'" she mocked, dry. 

Before Chris could shoot back, Bryce's voice interrupted, coming in over the comm system: "Bridge to Captain Pike."

"Saved by the bell," he muttered, saying louder, "Pike here."

"The away team is ready to beam back, sir."

"I'll be right there. Pike out." He turned to look at Number One, still observing him with that maddening amusement. "Sometimes, I miss the days you feared me."

Her amusement sharpened. "It's adorable you think that was ever a thing. Say hi to Burnham for me," she said, then disappeared. 

Chris sighed. He got no respect.

***

Chris walked into the transporter room and nodded in greeting at Zhang. "They're ready?"

"On your command, sir."

"Well, let's not keep them waiting. Energize." 

Chris watched as Saru, Nhan, and Michael materialized on the transporter pad, a little sweaty, a little scuffed, but seeming no worse for wear. Chris made sure his gaze didn't linger on Michael even as he desperately wanted to drink her in; disheveled looked good on her. 

"Looks like you had a party down there," he quipped. 

Saru cocked his head as he stepped off the pad to join Chris. "The planet's dense forestation did not make travel a simple matter."

"We got smacked in the face by flora. A lot," Nhan added as she stepped down, a little grumpy about that, he could tell. Chris flashed her a quick grin, letting her know he was absolutely mocking her pain. Her eyes narrowed in response. 

Chris could actually _feel_ Michael's gaze on him, clocking that exchange as she moved off the transporter pad. When he looked over to her, she dropped her eyes, a crease in her forehead speaking to some unease. Part of him wanted to ask...but it wasn't his place. 

He looked back to Saru, raising an eyebrow. "Find anything?"

"I believe you humans have a term for this: bupkis." Chris laughed aloud at the unexpected colloquialism. He felt Michael's eyes on him again, _watching_. Unbidden, his skin heated, that tingling awareness that swept through him whenever he caught her looking. It was happening more and more these days. 

But he didn't react, focusing on Saru. "Studying Federation Standard slang, are you?"

"Your frequent idiomatic digressions made it seem like a worthwhile pursuit."

"In that case, just wait until I bust out the Cockney rhyming slang. Commodore April was born in England, you know. He took particular pleasure in tormenting _his_ XO with some old school inscrutability."

Saru inclined his head, wholly genuine as he said, "I welcome the same education as bestowed upon one of Starfleet's finest." 

Chris waved that away, still feeling Michael's eyes tracking his movements. "All right, all right, save the veneration for someone important. I'm just the guy traipsing around the galaxy chasing phantom signals, it seems."

That seemed to spark something for Michael. She nodded, meditative. "The energy signatures do bear some resemblance to our mysterious signals, but if there's a connection, we've found no evidence of it."

Chris looked to her and shrugged a little. "Eh, we gave it the old college try."

Saru made an inquisitive noise just as Chris shot him a sly look, Saru instantly catching on. "So this will be a game of taunts, shall it?" 

As Chris smiled, he could _feel_ Michael's focus, like a weight on his skin. But still, he didn't look, attention on Saru: "I would never," he said solemnly, knowing Saru would read his amusement. 

"Did you need anything else, Captain?" Nhan said pointedly, her expression saying he could save his teasing for a more forgiving audience. 

He waved them to the door. "Go. Get changed and some rest. Send me your reports when they're finished."

They chorused, "Aye, Captain," on their way out, Chris watching them go. He forced himself not to get distracted by the sway of Michael's hips as she walked away; it was beneath him, no matter what he might want. 

As Michael passed through the doorway, she hesitated and looked back. Chris could _see_ the moment she startled, surprised at finding him already watching. Their eyes connected, that little _zing_ of heat that always curled through him when they got close, the same desire he'd been battling ever since he beamed aboard and caught sight of her in this very room. She turned away, some kind of awareness hovering around her as she walked off, the line of her body stiff.

Well. This was something. 

***

The door chime pulled Chris from Saru's mission report, from his comfortable spot on the couch, his nearby glass of whisky mostly gone. Chris liked reading reports before bed and Saru and Nhan's accounts hadn't disappointed. Chris was a little surprised he didn't have Michael's yet, but he expected it at any time. 

What he did not expect was someone at his door this late. Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn't think anyone had ever come to his quarters at all. Odd. 

"Come," he called out, setting his PADD aside and standing. In his t-shirt and sleep pants he didn't exactly look like the model captain, but hell. It was post-shift. He was probably owed some leeway. 

The doors opened—

And _Michael_ stepped through, showered and changed into a fresh uniform, looking at him with a curious tilt to her head. 

"Michael," Chris said, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. At the slip, he made sure to school his expression, to keep the pleasure at seeing her from showing on his face. It was—he didn't like to think of Michael being here, in his space. There was far too much temptation accompanying that train of thought. 

But now he didn't need to think it; she stood right in front of him, as effortlessly beautiful as ever. 

"Captain," she said, nodding. "I hope it's not too late."

"Not at all," he reassured, stepping toward her, trying to project openness. For her to come here, it must be something important. "Is everything all right?"

"Nothing is wrong. It's just..." She trailed off, seeming to consider her words, something flickering through her expression. Maybe uncertainty? He'd never seen it before. "Earlier, when we got back, I think you caught me looking at you." She shifted, looking down, before continuing on: "The truth is, I've been looking for a while..." 

Chris blinked in surprise, a sudden _pulse_ sweeping through him. She was right, but he'd never expected her to broach the topic. She'd been looking, and he could feel the interest, his own stirring in response—it was what made his thoughts about her so very fraught—but he fully expected it to end there. Regardless of how compelling he might find her, anything more than looks would have to come from her. So far, she'd shown no sign of making that move. 

Until now. 

Michael lifted her eyes to his, straightening a little and starting toward him. "It made me realize...I don't want to just look."

Helpless heat bloomed at what she was saying. At the way she watched him, something new in her eyes. "Michael..."

She stepped close, into his space, taking him in. "I think you've been looking, too," she said, low, reaching out to rest a hand on his chest, Chris sucking in a breath at the contact. "And I figured I'd ask...if it could be more than that?"

Chris stared at her, part of him not believing this was actually happening, the other part furiously cataloguing everything about this moment—the way his heart raced at her touch, senses tingling, the light hitting the line of her cheek, she was so beautiful—

He covered her hand with his, smiling a little. "Yeah," he said, finding his voice. "It can be more than that. It can be whatever you want."

Michael stepped closer, her body heat bleeding between them. "I want," she said, voice firm, flexing her hand under his. "I want to know what it feels like when you touch me."

Chris' breath caught as lust shot through him, his body waking up to Michael being _here_. Wanting him. 

He moved his hand to her cheek, cupping it carefully. Her skin was so soft. "You get why I couldn't be the one to start this, right?" he asked, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. 

Michael's eyes closed in pleasure, like even that simple touch was something to revel in. "Yes," she said after a moment, opening her eyes, desire in them now. That was the thing he hadn't recognized. "I understand. But now that it's started..." She moved in the final few inches, pressing against him, lifting her mouth to his—

Chris didn't need more prompting than that. He pressed their mouths together, hand firming on her jaw as he kissed her, lingering, sweet. The heat she'd sparked started building, suffusing everything. He broke the kiss, then angled his head the other way, mouths meeting again, deeper this time. She leaned her weight against him and Chris draped his arms around her, holding her close. The softness of her body hit him low, his desire sharpening. She _wanted_ him.

This time, when he broke the kiss, _she_ came back for more, making a little hungry sound as she took his mouth, licking at his bottom lip in request. 

He groaned into the kiss, flicking his tongue at hers, keeping it light. Michael made a dark noise in response, escalating things, sucking on his tongue, the suggestion of it going straight to Chris' cock.

 _That_ was enough to shake him out of the fog of lust, Chris pulling back on a breath, trying to regain some semblance of rational thought. Michael made a protesting noise, kissing down his chin to his neck, her hands gripping his shirt. She was so warm against him. 

"Michael," he panted, startling a little as she nipped at his jaw, the sting of it careening through him. "Hey, hang on..."

Michael leaned back and looked at him, eyes gleaming. "There's been enough of that." Then she kissed him again, no hesitance to her now, dipping her tongue into his mouth and away again, teasing. Her fingers explored his jaw, blunt nails scratching over his five o'clock shadow, the sensation sending a shiver of helpless want through him. 

She kissed him, focused and intent, like she couldn't get enough. Her body moved against his, prickling arousal along his spine, his cock stirring; it had been _so long_ since he'd held a woman like this. 

That thought shook Chris. He lifted his head, trying to get a handle on the desire sweeping through him, the need to crush her to him and never let go. "Hey. Hey," he said, sounding breathless and turned on. "That's a little fast, don't you think?"

Michael made a negative noise and kissed him again, hands clutching at him. "You feel so good," she whispered against his mouth, one hand snaking up his shirt to tease the skin of his back. 

While part of him reveled in the touch, wanting her hands _everywhere_ , something tickled at the back of Chris' mind. Something cold. 

He tried to pull away again. "Maybe we should take some time—"

Michael didn't even let him finish, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. Her hands were shamelessly exploring, pushing his shirt up, fingers tickling down the bumps of his spine. 

Like that, his desire snuffed out. This wasn't like her. Michael would never _push_ like this. 

Something was wrong. 

His mind raced as a sick kind of worry slammed through him, guilt on its heels. She just got back from a mission. A mission to a previously unexplored planet. And _now_ she decided to take this step? He should have clocked that highly suspicious timing. He shouldn't have let it get so far. 

He needed to stop this. 

Chris ran light fingers along her arms, reaching back to collect her wandering hands, wrapping them in his own. He broke the kiss, bringing her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, then breathing over them. 

Michael watched, eyes gleaming with desire, her breath catching at the sensation.

Chris lifted his mouth. "Computer, two for site-to-site transport. Captain's quarters to medbay."

Michael's eyes widened as the computer chirped, "Confirmed," and Chris said, "Energize," the two of them dematerializing—

Only to rematerialize in medbay, Chris still holding Michael's hands. Nearby, Pollard blinked at them in surprise. "Nice pajamas, Captain," she said, the tone of her voice indicating she was not impressed with this little trick.

No matter. She'd see the wisdom of it eventually. "Dr. Pollard, we need a full scan on Commander Burnham here."

"Captain—" Michael started just as Pollard said, "For what, exactly?"

Chris held Michael's eyes as he said, "For anything that would result in behavioral changes."

"Captain, I'm fine," Michael insisted, stiffening and trying to pull away from him. 

He didn't let go. "I know you feel that way, but sometimes it takes someone outside ourselves to see us more objectively. You did just get back from a mission. And hey, there's no harm in a scan, right? If we're being logical about it."

Michael's jaw firmed, but she finally relented, nodding once. "Though it seems like an overreaction, there is no logical reason not to run a scan."

"Glad we're all in agreement." Chris nodded to the biobed Pollard had already turned to, Michael sitting up on it, then lying back, her movements filled with a tension he could _see_.

Pollard activated the holographic controls, quickly getting into the scan. Chris left her to it, choosing to watch Michael instead. She seemed calm, but there was something working underneath it, her eyes flitting from Pollard to the holographic display and back again. 

The sick feeling in Chris' gut intensified. 

That was when the computer beeped unhappily, Pollard leaning in to breathe, "What the hell is _that_?"

Chris didn't even get a look before Michael's hand shot out, a wild swing at Pollard—

He intercepted, catching her fist with a huff of breath just as she rolled off the bed. 

Chris used her momentum against her, wrenching her arm behind her back and pressing her into the edge of the biobed. Michael struggled against him, strong, but the pain in her arm kept her immobile. 

"Someone sedate her," Chris called, adrenaline pumping as the confirmation of something seriously _wrong_ with Michael took hold. The buzz of activity around them heightened, a nurse rushing in with a hypospray. A beat and Michael went limp, slumping down. 

"Sorry, Michael," Chris muttered, stepping back and catching her in his arms, lifting her onto the bed. The nurses helped, murmurs of concern rising. Chris took in her form, so still, hating seeing her like this, unconscious and helpless. 

He moved to Pollard, who stared at the holo-diagnostic of Michael's body. Even Chris could see the green filaments clustered in her brain, running through her entire nervous system. The look on Pollard's face said it was as bad as it seemed.

"Talk to me," he ordered, worry lacing his voice. 

"You got this from behavioral changes?" Pollard asked, incredulous.

Chris winced. It had taken him too long. Far, far too long. But there would be more time for kicking himself later. "She seemed off. What is it?"

Pollard met his eyes, grim. "I have no idea."

***

Chris couldn't sleep after that. He was supposed to. He needed to. He was off-duty and should be alert for whatever happened next. 

But it wouldn't come. 

He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the whole encounter with Michael over and over again, cursing himself. Well, not with Michael, he supposed. With whatever _thing_ was controlling Michael. Those now-shameful moments had seemed so real. It was so...good. Exactly what he wanted. 

That made it harder. 

Chris sighed and sat up, reconciling himself with the fact that he wasn't falling asleep anytime soon. He stood and moved out of the bedroom, making his way to the replicator. "Tea, valerian root, hot," he ordered, taking the steaming cup after it materialized. 

He stopped by his desk, tapping the comms link. "Desai, get me Dr. Catherine Pike at the Academy. Secure channel to my quarters."

"Yes, sir," Desai acknowledged. 

Chris sank onto his couch, snagging a throw as he waited. After a few moments, the ghostly holo of his mother appeared, raising an eyebrow. "He lives," she intoned dryly. Her hair was all white now, which never failed to strike him. She wore a lab coat over her dark sweater and pants, the neutral look she favored to distinguish herself from Starfleet personnel. 

He shot her a look. "Excuse me, it's your fault, too. I keep getting told you're in a lecture."

"Funny thing when they make you an adjunct professor: they expect you to teach."

"How dare," Chris said, dry.

"I keep saying," she agreed. Then her look sharpened, seeming to read him, clocking the tea in his hand. She nodded to it. "Hot toddy?" she guessed.

"Valerian root."

She raised an eyebrow. "So what's keeping you awake at night?"

Chris sighed and stared at his tea for a moment, lost in thought. "Do you ever think we're being tested?" he asked, soft.

She studied him like she was trying to see through him to the real issue. "That would imply some sort of a higher power to do the testing and you know how I feel about that."

"And yet I once again found myself being tempted with what I want. Seems to be a bit of a pattern," he said, thinking of Talos, of the offer to be anything he wanted. And now Michael, showing up like his desire made flesh. 

"That's confirmation bias, my darling. You're seeing a pattern because you want to. The real question is, why do you find it preferable that someone is trying to test you?"

Chris considered that. A fair question. "Dad would've said because then it would matter. Everything would be for a purpose. It would make sense."

"Things just are, you know that. What matters is how we respond. What we _choose_."

Chris winced, thinking of how he'd fallen into it. How he hadn't really questioned Michael coming onto him. 

Because he'd _wanted_ it. 

"Yeah," he finally said, hearing the unhappy note to it. 

"What's wrong, Chris?" Mom asked, her brow furrowed. 

Chris pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused on her again. "There's something wrong with one of my officers."

"Michael?" she guessed, for once not teasing him. 

Still, he shot her a look. 

She returned it, unimpressed. "You said you were being tempted. So Michael," she said, like it was obvious. 

"You and Number One need to stop talking."

"Well, now I definitely need to call her," she shot back, like that wasn't a horrifying reminder that they were friendly. Then she switched tracks: "What's the diagnosis?" 

"We don't know yet. Pollard is running a battery of tests now."

Fondness flashed over his mom's face. "I haven't talked to Tracy in ages. Want me to consult?"

"It's too soon for that, I think. But thanks," he said, making sure she knew it was genuine. 

"Offer's open." She studied him, softening again. "Whatever happened, here's what I know: you are a good and decent man. However much you think you failed, I can guarantee you didn't."

"You're my mother. You see the good in me."

"Because that's all there is to see," she said, warm. "Now, drink your tea. And get some sleep."

Chris nodded. "Love you."

"Love you most," she returned, their refrain that never failed to remind him of his childhood, that feeling of safety as she tucked him into bed. She smiled as the holographic display disappeared.

Chris drank his tea. 

He still didn't sleep.

***

Tilly paced by the ready room conference table, seeming unable to help it, consumed by her worry. "I mean, yeah, she really liked her shower. And dinner. But, you know, she traipsed through a jungle," she protested.

"Ensign, if you'd like to sit down and join us..." Saru tried, gesturing to her seat. 

"I'd want a shower, too, if I had to hoof it through a jungle," she continued, her voice rising.

"Tilly," Chris said firmly. "No one's blaming you. Now sit."

She sat, seeming a little cowed. "Sorry, it's just—I should have known," she said, quieter. 

Saru, Nhan, Tyler, and Pollard all softened even as that _hit_ Chris. He should have known, too. Things that were too good to be true should always be suspect. 

Saru leaned toward Tilly, eyes so gentle. "I've known Commander Burnham even longer than you and I did not sense anything amiss," he said, soothing. "We are lucky the captain had such keen insight."

"How _did_ you figure it out?" Tyler asked, some kind of suspicion in his dark eyes. 

Chris swallowed, trying to keep his mind off Michael pressed against him, mouth to his, heat building between them. There was no point in thinking of it. 

And zero chance he'd be sharing.

"I don't know Burnham as well as the rest of you. I could be more objective about it," he said, short, his tone of voice shutting down that line of inquiry. "I'm more interested in what it _is_ ," he said, looking to Pollard. 

In his peripheral, he clocked Nhan watching him. She knew him well enough not to believe that for a second, but thankfully she said nothing as Pollard brought up a holo-display of the thing inside Michael. 

Everyone frowned at the holo, the green tendrils disconcertingly widespread. "It seems to be some kind of parasite, but it's like nothing I've ever seen," Pollard said. "It looks like it's burrowed into her brain, but its filaments run throughout her entire nervous system."

Chris nodded to Saru and Nhan. "Since these two are here, I presume they're clear?"

"Yes, Captain," Pollard confirmed. "Scans showed no sign of this in their systems. Either their physiologies rule them out as good hosts or Burnham just got lucky."

"She's still sedated?"

Pollard nodded. "Yes, but that's not a long-term solution."

"Clearly," Tyler said. 

Tilly just stared at all the green, seeming miserable. "She seemed so... _her_ ," she said, at a loss. 

"I concur," Saru agreed, looking to Pollard. "I suspect this parasite must gain access to its host's memories. There would be no other way to fool so many people."

"She mentioned something about Vulcan when we were walking back to the transporter site," Nhan agreed. "Do we know when or how she was infected?"

Pollard nodded and swiped her hand through the holo, a new image appearing, a closeup of a tiny puncture wound. "Aside from the minor abrasions from the flora that all of you have, we found a small wound on the back of her neck, presumably from a sting or a bite. You said none of you ingested anything on the mission," Pollard prompted, looking to them. 

"That's correct," Saru said. 

"Then this is the likeliest mode of entry. Did Burnham say anything about getting stung?"

Saru and Nhan exchanged looks, both shaking their heads. 

"That's all very interesting. How do we get rid of it?" Tyler said, to-the-point. 

Pollard's frown deepened in a way that Chris emphatically did not like. "That's the tricky part." She gestured again, bringing back the holo-display showing the extent of the parasitic infection. "We've already run scans. Drugs won't work. And it's too extensive and intricately entwined to cut out."

"But..." Chris prompted. 

Pollard tilted her head. "We would likely be able to kill it with a concentrated dose of radiation."

Chris stiffened, cold settling in his gut again as Tyler asked, "How concentrated?"

"There would be damage," Pollard said, answering the real question. She regarded Chris. "Her immune system could recover. Her reproductive system..." Pollard's tone was more hesitant there. 

"Absolutely not," Chris said, flat, a new kind of horror dawning. 

"If it's this or letting that thing have control of her," Pollard argued, eyes steady on his.

"Do we even know if Michael is still in there?" Nhan asked reasonably. 

Chris winced at that even-more-horrible thought, Tilly going utterly still. "You think—you think she's gone?" she asked, almost a whisper.

Nhan shot her an apologetic look. "We have to ask the question."

Pollard nodded in agreement. "Aside from the presence of the parasite, her brain scans match those we have on file for when she's awake and alert. If her consciousness had been affected, they likely wouldn't."

"So you think she's aware, just not in control?" Chris swallowed, something in his throat _hurting_. He would have confessed what happened if she didn't remember—she deserved that much—but to think she was a conscious passenger in her own body...it was horrifying. 

"It's my best guess. Which is why we need to get that thing out of her," she emphasized, looking to Chris pointedly.

Chris' gut churned, too many emotions to process. He had no idea how Michael felt about having a family, but he didn't want to make that choice _for_ her. "We are not doing anything that permanently harms Michael unless it's our absolute last resort," he bit out. 

Tilly broke into the tense moment, seeming hesitant. "Michael wouldn't want to live like this," she offered, reluctant. "I mean, if you can even call it living. But if she knew, if she was here, she'd want us to do anything we could to save her."

Saru nodded, thoughtful. "I concur."

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose, thoughts tumbling over each other, circling something just out of reach. "You said Michael really enjoyed her meal and shower," he said slowly, looking to Tilly. 

"Yeah? I mean, yes. Does that matter?"

Chris flashed back to Michael—no, to that thing controlling Michael, he needed to _remember_ that—pressing against him, pushing for more. _“I want to know what it feels like when you touch me“_ floated through his mind. A very specific request, really. 

"Captain?" Nhan prompted, bringing him back to the ready room. 

Chris looked to the others, shaking his head. "We should consider motive here. Yes, the parasite is controlling Michael, but its behavior is carefully deceptive. It managed to fool several people. That takes effort."

"You think it wants something?" Tyler asked, clearly mulling the implications. 

"It doesn't seem to be after any specific information," Nhan returned reasonably.

"What if it's exploring?" Chris hazarded. "Seeking out...experience. Humans haven't been to its planet. Once it infected Michael, everything would be new." 

The others took it in, Saru cocking his head thoughtfully. "It's certainly possible."

"If it wants something, that means it _wants_. It has the ability to want," Chris reasoned, thoughts coalescing into an idea. 

"How does that help us get rid of it?" Pollard asked. 

Chris shrugged. "It means we can do what my mother always says: ask nicely."

*** 

Chris stood before Michael's biobed, taking her in, still unsettled to see her like this. He was used to seeing Michael in action, working through problems, her mind never at rest. This felt...wrong. Even worse were her bound hands, just a precaution, but you couldn't be too careful. 

He looked to Nhan and her security team, positioned around them, just in case. Tilly had wanted to be here, but that seemed like a disaster waiting to happen if things went bad, so Chris had pulled rank and said no. Tyler's request hadn't even merited consideration. 

Satisfied that they were properly protected, he nodded to Pollard, who injected Michael with a compound to neutralize the sedative. 

It was mere moments before Michael's eyelids fluttered and opened, consciousness coming back. She still seemed so...her, even as Chris' mind knew it was something else in control. Her eyes darted around the room, from Pollard to Nhan to the security team then finally to Chris.

"Hello," Chris said, neutral. "My name is Captain Christopher Pike of the United Federation of Planets. Who am I addressing?"

She blinked several times, seeming to process that. Finally, she answered: "We are the iffrijt." Even knowing it, the confirmation made Chris' gut clench. It seemed utterly composed, calm and mildly curious, very much like the Michael he knew despite acknowledging it was anything but. 

Chris cocked his head, considering the words. "Does your species not have individual identities?"

"We are...connected. Not like you."

Chris nodded, accepting that and moving on. "You seem to have taken control of one of my officers. I'd like her back."

The iffrijt frowned. "We like this body."

"I'm sure Michael likes it, too. Because it's _hers_ ," he shot back.

The iffrijt's eyes flicked back and forth, like it was considering that. "'Like' isn't the correct word. 'Accept,' maybe. It's the body she was born with. She has no reason to think of it any other way."

Sudden relief swept through Chris, though he made sure not to show it. She was still in there. "You can communicate with her?" 

"Of course. She is displeased with present circumstances."

"Yes, in our culture it is unacceptable to take control of someone else's physical form."

The iffrijt nodded. "She has informed me of this. But joining with a host is the only way for us to experience their sensory input."

"Your desires don't supersede her bodily autonomy," he returned, even. 

The iffrijt frowned. "Why?"

"Because our bodies belong to us and it's a violation of our free will for them to be taken without our permission."

"Your human morality does not apply to us," the iffrijt dismissed, like it didn't even bear consideration. 

So much for asking nicely.

Chris hardened his expression. "Look, I could argue the philosophy of it with you all the live-long day, but I want my officer back, so I'll make it real simple: we know how to kill you." 

The iffrijt stilled in something like surprise, eyes narrowing as it studied Chris. That seemed like a good sign, so he continued, "Here are your choices: give Michael her body back or we deploy a targeted burst of radiation to fry you to a crisp."

The iffrijt studied him, mind clearly working through it. "That would harm this body."

"It would. But she would heal. You wouldn't."

The iffrijt assessed him, measuring. "If we relinquished this body, how do we know you wouldn't destroy us anyway?"

Chris dared not let himself hope too much, even if they were now negotiating details. He looked to the iffrijt evenly. "I'm a man of my word. Ask Michael about that if you like. I do what I say. And I promise that I will return you to your planet. Hell, I'll even put out the word to our people that you're looking for human hosts to bond with. I'd bet good money that someone will find that intriguing enough to agree."

The iffrijt blinked a few more times, thinking. "Her memories support what you claim."

Chris inclined his head, waiting. 

"You also do not make idle threats," it said, like this confirmed something. 

"I do not," he promised, dark. 

The iffrijt nodded once. "Your terms are acceptable."

Chris tamped down the relief trying to consume him, nodding slightly. "Good. How do we accomplish it?"

"We require a minor incision at the entry site." It raised its bound hands to the back of Michael's neck. 

Chris nodded to Pollard. She grabbed a laser scalpel and moved closer, turning Michael's head carefully and making a small cut. Blood oozed—

Michael's whole body seized up, going rigid, a horrible juddering sound issuing from her mouth as she shook. Pollard held her down, the nurses rushing in to support her.

"What's happening?" Chris stepped closer, noting how the holographic display was changing before his eyes, the green disappearing.

"I'll get back to you on that," Pollard said, clipped. Her eyes were glued to the holo-display. "Her vitals are stable."

As they watched... _something_ started to ooze out of Michael's neck, like a very thin worm squirming its way out. Clearly alive, it wiggled away from Michael, covered in her blood. Chris stared at it, realizing this must be the iffrijt in its natural form.

"Someone get me something to carry it," Chris barked. 

A nurse instantly set a clear receptacle tray before the iffrijt. It wiggled its way in, finally freeing itself from Michael's neck. Her body instantly relaxed, the sound cut off as she slipped unconscious. 

The quiet was almost as chilling. As the iffrijt continued to move itself into the tray, Chris looked to Pollard, whose eyes were still on the holo-display. "Anything?"

"The parasite has cleared, but there's still some residual damage. Get that thing out of here and let me work."

The iffrijt finally fully in the tray, Chris scooped it up and stood back, giving them space. 

He looked down at the iffrijt, now curled up in a kind of pinwheel, still. 

"I suppose it's time to get you home," he said, wondering if it could even hear him in this state, with no ears to perceive the sound. 

Not that it mattered. He was a man of his word.

***

Chris set the tray down on the transporter pad, then stood back. He looked to Zhang. "Coordinates set to our people's transporter site?" 

"Yes, Captain," Zhang nodded. 

"Good. Energize."

Chris stared at the iffrijt until it had definitely dematerialized, no longer his problem. 

He blew out a breath. Well. At least one thing had gone smoothly. 

***

Saru briefed him later, Chris electing to give Michael space to recover, not wanting to add any awkwardness to what was already a deeply unsettling experience, he was sure. 

"Commander Burnham insists she's just fine and has already left medbay," Saru said with the long-suffering tone that only a close friend could lay claim to. 

"Bet Pollard loved that," Chris muttered. 

Saru smiled slightly. "Actually, I believe both parties were...on the same page."

Chris flashed a smile at him, nodding appreciatively at the idiom. Then he sobered, thinking it over. "How is she 'just fine' if she remembers all of it? The iffrijt took control of her body." Chris shifted uncomfortably at the idea, images of Michael pressing against him flitting through his mind, even as he pushed them away. _He_ wasn't fine with it; how could Michael possibly be?

"I raised the same concern. Michael's perspective is that the iffrijt simply went about her daily routine, trying to fit in, and as such it is no cause to worry." Something about Saru's tone said he didn't believe it and Chris _knew_ it wasn't even close to true—hitting on him was _not_ in her daily routine—but if that was how she wanted to frame it to others, it wasn't his place to contradict her. 

He sighed. "I know she's going to want to get right back to it, but this isn't something to just shrug off. Tell her to take a few days. No rush on her report."

Saru nodded. "Very well, sir."

"And tell her I'd like to talk to her when she's feeling up to it," he added, keeping his tone casual. 

Not casual enough. Saru cocked his head, reacting to the unusual request. But bless him, he didn't ask, simply nodded again. "As you wish, Captain."

***

Of course she was already on the bridge and at her station the next morning. Chris took her in as he moved toward the captain's chair, clocking how she tensed under his gaze, even as she busily attended to the screens before her. He didn't know if the tension was because of what happened between them or the fact that she was very much _not_ taking a few days. He raised an eyebrow at Saru. 

Saru instantly moved to explain: "Commander Burnham insists that she's well enough to carry out her duties."

"Does she," Chris said, not a question. 

"I'm fine," Michael insisted, finally looking over to meet his eyes. "I already submitted my report and Pollard cleared me."

Chris had been alerted to both facts earlier that morning. He regarded her for a silent moment, assessing. She was utterly put-together and professional, no hint that anything had happened. And beautiful, of course, though he shied away from that thought. 

Michael lifted her chin at the scrutiny, stubbornness leaking into her expression. 

He ghosted a smile, then tipped his head. "Your call, Commander."

Then he took his seat, turning his attention to the wider crew. "What do we got?"

***

" _Bodysnatchers_?" Kat asked as she walked into his ready room, incredulous. 

"You have to admit, we keep things lively," Chris shot back from the bar cart. "Drink?" he asked, already pulling a second glass for her. 

"God, yes. I'll take boring, Chris. I've got nothing against boring." 

"But then we wouldn't have these fun little chats."

Kat sent him a withering look. "What _would_ I do with myself," she deadpanned. "And how is it always you?" She dropped onto the couch, eyeing him accusingly. 

"Well, in this case it was Michael," he corrected, turning with their drinks. 

Kat paused...and Chris' heart thudded an irregular beat, realizing his mistake. He should've said 'Burnham,' _dammit_. But Kat didn't press, just smoothly clarifying, "How is it always your ship, then."

"What can I say? I'm a troublemaker." He handed her the whisky, clinking her glass and then taking a sip as he sat in one of the chairs. The burn felt good. It was almost enough to distract from the fact that Michael still hadn't come to talk to him. 

Almost.

"Don't I know it," Kat muttered into her drink, taking a healthy sip. "You put the beacon in orbit?"

Chris nodded. "Anyone approaching will be warned of the dangers of its parasitic species. They call themselves the iffrijt."

"We've already updated our records. This planet is now a no-go zone." Then she studied him. "Another to add to your collection."

Chris winced at the reference to Talos; after his call with his mom, he'd been doing his best to treat them as separate events. "That had dawned on me."

Thankfully Kat didn't push. "Tell me about Burnham."

"She's back to work, insisting she's fine." But she still hadn't been to see him. Chris had made it conditional—when she was ready—and he could hardly let that impact her job...but every time he thought about it, he felt that roil in his gut. 

She wasn't ready. 

"That seems soon," Kat said, neutral, nursing her drink. 

"You know Burnham."

She nodded. "I do. So. Tell me about 'Michael,'" she said, eyes piercing, the quotes implied. 

Chris sighed. "And here I was grateful you weren't going to push."

"You really thought that would last?" she asked, tone announcing what she thought of that. 

"I live in hope."

"Yeah, yeah, stop dodging already."

Chris shrugged, a little helpless. "What do you want me to say?"

"Your report said the other crew didn't notice anything wrong, but you found her behavior 'off,' your word. Was it something to do with this?" she asked, gesturing to his form in a way he presumed meant _personal_. 

"Yes," he said simply, not wanting to get into details unless he had to. Michael deserved _some_ privacy. 

Kat cocked her head, reading him. "You're upset."

The blunt statement made him realize...he was. Aside from the horror on Michael's behalf, and the anger at himself for not seeing through it sooner, it... _hurt._ It felt like a shot at something beautiful had been ruined. 

Not that he needed to get into that with his boss. "I don't know if I'd go that far." 

"I would. What? Did the iffrijt blow your little crush?"

Chris flinched, unable to help it. And Kat was professionally insightful. She wasn't about to miss something so obvious. She softened, tipping her head at him in sympathy. "Sorry."

He nodded, accepting that. "It is what it is, but thanks."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"I relayed openness to the conversation through a third party. She hasn't taken me up on it yet." He took another sip of his drink. "But then, why would she? There are _levels_ to this awkwardness."

That seemed to interest Kat. Her eyes narrowed. "It's not a failing, Chris."

"She's one of my officers."

"They're all your officers," Kat volleyed back. 

"She's Spock's sister," he said, repeating the same old series of arguments he'd used in his own mind. The many reasons it was a bad idea. 

And yet. 

"What? You think Spock's gonna hold it against you?" Kat asked, tone implying he was an idiot. 

Chris sighed, knowing she wouldn't let up. It made her a hell of an admiral...and a total pain in the ass sometimes. "It's not...easy," he finally admitted. This had kept him up at night. Nothing about wanting Michael was easy...yet he couldn't seem to help himself.

Kat softened as she leaned forward. "No matter who it is, it never would be."

Chris shot her a look at that presumption. "This is not about Talos."

Kat actually laughed at him then. "Of course it's about Talos."

"My attraction to Michael has nothing to do with—"

"Your reticence, not your attraction," she corrected, not even letting him finish. 

"I'm the captain. It comes with certain responsibilities."

"I'd know nothing about that," she said, dry, not giving an inch. But she didn't linger on her mockery, expression morphing into something serious. "You can't bullshit me, Chris. You got burned on Talos, so you retreated behind your walls. Michael challenges that, the iffrijt somehow used it, and now you feel guilty."

Chris winced. First Number One, then his mom, now Kat. And here he thought he'd been doing a solid job of hiding his reaction to Talos. "Could you know me a little less well?" he grumbled.

"I long for it," she said honestly, making his lips curve in appreciation. "And yes, you're the captain, but that's just another excuse. Once you get high enough, your only choices are subordinates. Starfleet demands many things, but celibacy isn't one of them. Thankfully," she added. 

Chris tipped his head in acknowledgment, if not agreement. 

Kat read that, shooting him a long-suffering look. "Given this little display of stubbornness, maybe you should look at this as a good thing."

"Michael being bodysnatched is a good thing?" he asked, slow, to let her know just what he thought of that idea. 

Her expression said she clocked and mocked that all at once. "Of course not. But you getting shaken out of your comfort zone? I can see that silver lining."

Chris felt his irritation flare. What _was_ it with people and their unsolicited opinions on his personal life? "Regardless of what you think is best for my issues, Michael didn't have a say in the matter," Chris said, even.

Kat nodded. "Which is why I understand you needing to talk to her. Just don't apologize for your feelings. Connection is good. You could both stand to do with a little more of it."

***

Chris was just collecting the PADD from his desk to take with him for the night when the ready room door chime sounded, stilling him. It could be routine, someone checking in as they ended shift...

Something in him insisted it wasn't. This was Michael. 

"Come," he called. 

The doors opened, admitting Michael. An odd sense of satisfaction settled in Chris' gut at being right. It was not even close to the point, but something in him warmed at it. 

He smiled in welcome, just slight. She nodded back, maddeningly neutral. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Please," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat, settling back in his own. "I know you said you're fine, but...are you really?"

"I will be," she said as she sat, firm, which about confirmed his suspicions. 

Chris nodded, accepting that. He stayed quiet, wanting to let her approach this as she chose. 

Michael seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then took a breath. "Saru told you that I remember it all?" she asked, her gaze searching. 

"He did."

Michael nodded, unsurprised. "It was...distressing. The iffrijt and I were two separate consciousnesses, but it was like it was trying to...merge with mine. It didn't understand the idea of separation of self. It felt no compunction about scrolling through my memories or taking control of my body. I experienced it all, I just had no control."

"I can't even imagine how terrifying that was," he murmured, a little surprised at her continued composure. She was handling this remarkably well. 

She swallowed, something complicated seeping into her expression. "I will admit, there was a kind of purity to it. A sense of wonder at exploration, something I've felt myself. And the iffrijt wasn't hostile. I don't even think it really understood the idea of hostility. It was just...want. It wanted to _feel_."

Chris winced, seeing where she was going with this. 

"It liked the way water felt, the way food tasted. It liked the pleasure of the experience. It went looking for what else would feel—would feel good," she stumbled over her words a little, the first crack in her cool. "As you can imagine, sex was a foreign concept. It—it was curious about those memories, wanting to experience those feelings itself."

He nodded in understanding even as a dim part of him couldn't get over what she had experienced—body hijacked by some foreign consciousness, using her as it saw fit. 

"At first, it didn't care who. It honed in on a few specialists who have, uh, expressed interest," Michael said, looking down in embarrassment. 

Chris' gut dropped out. It hadn't occurred to him that he might not have been Michael's first stop. That there might have been others before him. He could hear the alarm in his own voice as he said, "Michael, did anything—"

She held up a hand. "No. I convinced it that—that people would find such behavior strange. After all, I'd not engaged in—Tilly would notice. I pointed out how Tilly always noticed those things and that she would start asking about it and that would lead to the iffrijt getting caught. Self-preservation is something they do understand."

He nodded, his shoulders untensing, even as the sick feeling in his gut didn't go anywhere. 

"But it still _wanted_. It searched through my memories and saw me with—with Ash."

Chris blinked, shaken out of his turmoil by the revelation. "Specialist Tyler," he said, unable to help the surprised note to it. Michael had been in a relationship with _Tyler_? The Klingon infiltrator who killed Doctor Culber? Who now worked for Section 31? His mind instantly went through all their interactions about him, remembering how she had called him a good man. How Chris had sensed that something was up, not knowing what it was. 

Michael nodded, her embarrassment back. "Yes. He and I, uh—"

This time, Chris held up a hand. "You don't need to get into it if you don't want." Even if he was desperately curious about how someone so loyal ended up with a spy for the other side, this situation had already forced too many revelations. 

Relief flashed across Michael's face for an instant before she sobered and returned to her story. "The iffrijt decided that since I had—I had _been_ with Ash that we could just resume our relationship and no one would question it. I argued that _Ash_ would question it, but a small part of me was worried."

"Because he might not," Chris guessed, the horror of this reasserting itself, drowning out his contemplation of Tyler. Michael had essentially been possessed and had to negotiate who her potential rapist would be. He didn't know how she was so calm about it, reciting events like it was any old mission. 

"Because he might not," Michael confirmed, looking down like she was ashamed of the thought. "Ash is a good man, but he wants—I thought his desire might—I couldn't be sure," she finally settled on, looking a little haunted by that idea. 

Chris blinked, but said nothing. She called Tyler a good man, but she didn't trust him, not really. 

She cleared her throat and refocused. "So I—so I proposed an alternative. I showed the iffrijt memories of the times I, uh, I thought you were looking. I showed it the times I had been," she admitted, sending a traitorous little _pulse_ through Chris, despite the horror of the story. She had been looking at him. But Michael didn't linger on that admission, she just moved right past it: "As long as I gave it an option that would accomplish its goals, it didn't question anything."

Michael shook her head and held his eyes, something apologetic in hers. "I chose you," she said, the gravity of it in her tone. "I thought you would figure out that something was wrong."

And instead he'd fallen for the iffrijt's act. Until it became so obvious that he'd have to be willfully obtuse not to get it. 

Chris kicked himself all over again, ashamed at getting so easily distracted by his desire. "I'm just sorry it took me so long."

"No, that's not—you saved me," she insisted, like she was trying to reassure him. 

He shook his head, the regret filtering into his voice: "I should have known you weren't yourself."

"No one else did. But I had hope that you might be able to—to see. And you did," she said, with such depth of relief. Then her expression deflated. "But for that to happen I had to put you in an emotionally manipulative situation. I am sorry for that. I didn't want to hurt you."

Chris controlled his reaction to that, the recognition that this _did_ hurt, in ways he still didn't want to let himself fully feel. Despite his carefully maintained boundaries, some small part of him had been...hoping. 

But that was his issue. She shouldn't have to bear the weight of it. "You didn't put me in that situation," he said, reassuring. "The iffrijt put us both there. You were just doing what was necessary to survive." 

Michael frowned, apparently still troubled. "I made the call."

"And it was the right one. You don't need to apologize to me."

She looked like she wanted to disagree...but then she softened. "Nor you to me."

Like that, Chris got it. Just as he didn't blame her for placing them in the situation, she didn't blame him for falling into it for a time. It wasn't like either of them could turn off their remorse, but it was helpful to know there was no blame from the other side. "How about we call it even and try to put it behind us?" he asked with a half-smile, the one that usually disarmed people. 

Michael was no exception. She smiled back, nodding a little. "I'd like that."

"Good. Thank you for this. It was clarifying."

"Thank _you_. For...seeing me," she said, like she was searching for the words. 

"Always," he promised. 

Michael looked away and stood, smiling tightly. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight." Chris watched her walk away, glad of the conversation, but still unable to help himself from wishing that she'd turn around and bring up the thing she hadn't addressed, the thing still hanging between them. The fact that they'd both been looking. 

But Michael didn't. She just held her head high and walked out. 

***

"That's it? You just let her go?" Number One asked, a shade incredulous, the ghostly holo not obscuring her exasperated expression at all. 

"As opposed to what?" he asked reasonably. 

"Saying, 'Hey, about how we've both been checking each other out.'"

That _pulsed_ through Chris, something in him shying away from his attraction being stated so plainly. He shook his head at Number One. "She knew that. She could have raised the issue if she wanted to. Clearly, she didn't want to."

"Chris, you have to ask for what you want," Number One insisted. 

He looked at her askance. "We are so far past what I want. A new lifeform _took control_ of her body. That's the only reason any of this got pushed out into the open. If she'd rather ignore those revelations, I'm following her lead."

"She admitted to you that she had been looking," she shot back. 

"By way of explaining how we got into the situation. And besides, looking isn't acting. If she was aware she was looking, but didn't want to pursue it further, that's a choice, too."

"A _bad_ choice," Number One corrected. 

"But still hers to make," Chris said, quiet. The reality was, if Michael didn't want to explore any feelings that might be between them, he had to respect that. The whole situation was unfair, an attraction brought to light by circumstance, not choice. She could have legitimate reservations; hell, he was her commanding officer. There were multiple obvious points of hesitation. He couldn't fault her for that. 

No matter what he wanted. 

Number One was getting irritated now. "You're making assumptions here. She was raised on Vulcan. We've already gone through this with Spock. She may not know how to address the attraction in a productive way."

"And you accuse _me_ of making assumptions?" he tossed back at her, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Number One's expression went shrewd. "Is this guilt over falling for the iffrijt's act or guilt over wanting Burnham at all?"

Chris winced, wishing once again that she didn't have such insight. Michael had been...unexpected. He was doing just fine on his own, wrapped in his isolation. She made him want to reach out. That desire was the only reason things got physical at all. None of this would have happened if he hadn't let his little crush run away with him. He should have done better. "That's part of it," he admitted. 

"You're allowed to _want_ , Chris. You're allowed to pursue happiness. You deserve it," Number One insisted, quieter now.

Chris tilted his head at her, appreciating the sentiment. "I'm not disagreeing with you. I just don't think it will be with Michael." That stung, but it seemed to be where they were at and Chris was adult enough to accept it. 

Number One's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that."

***

Chris put that rather ominous declaration out of his mind, figuring she couldn't do much meddling from so far away. Besides, he had a ship to run and a mission to complete. 

If only they were making progress.

"You're saying it's emitting signals that _approximate_ the red bursts?" Chris asked, turning away from the shifting green subspace anomaly on screen to look back at Michael. 

She nodded even as she didn't seem particularly convinced, either. "Fragments of signals, but yes."

Chris frowned as he took in the anomaly once again. He'd never seen anything like it. 

He moved over to Michael's station to get a better look at the data pouring in. "And you can't isolate the source of the signal fragments?"

Beside him, Michael stiffened. "No, sir."

Chris blinked, startled, as realization slammed down on him, stealing his breath. The new tension in her frame was because of _him_. She didn't want him near her. 

The thought actually _hurt_. 

Still, he backed off, taking a few steps away, keeping his professional mask in place. This was its purpose, after all. He shot a look to Detmer, trying to set aside his emotional reaction and _think_. "Helm, hold steady." 

"Aye, Captain," Detmer acknowledged. 

Chris looked back to Michael, noting that her posture had loosened with his distance. "Let's run a full battery of scans. If we can understand the similarities it might help us with our red bursts." He knew it was a longshot, but they also didn't have any other leads. On the red bursts or on Spock. 

"Yes, Captain," Michael replied, working through the data pouring in, visibly more comfortable. Because he'd moved away, Chris acknowledged. He forced that thought aside as he returned to his chair and took a seat. 

But as the others worked, Chris couldn't help his mind from returning to it, bothered by what just happened. Michael had never been standoffish with him before. She'd always been welcoming of his presence when he'd joined her at her station.

Until today. 

He couldn't help but draw a line to what had gone on between them. Nothing else had changed. And that...that _stung_. 

Chris tried to squash the supremely unhelpful reaction. After all, Michael's response made sense. Of course she'd react to Chris being in her space. The last time he'd gotten close, she hadn't invited him. He should have thought before he'd even gone over to her. 

And yet. They'd always worked so smoothly together. It had struck him from their very first meeting, the two of them instantly syncing, their dynamic easy. The idea that that might suddenly be gone...something in him rebelled. 

Worse, he didn't know how to fix it.

***

"She probably just needs time," his mom counseled, the line between her eyes contradicting her reassuring tone. 

Chris frowned, rolling the glass of whisky in his hands. "Michael's never been like that with me," he said, soft, remembering the tension in her shoulders. 

Even through the holo, Chris could see his mom's eyes narrow. "Nor has she ever been bodysnatched. She's allowed to need a minute."

"I'm not saying otherwise. I just...should've known. I should've seen it coming." It was thoughtless of him. Why hadn't he _thought_?

"Have you suddenly become psychic?" she asked reasonably.

"Part of the captain's job is to anticipate problems."

She actually rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, for God's sake," she muttered. "Darling, I love you to the moon and back, but this is you letting your guilt run away with you. You don't have to have all the answers all the time, especially not when your own emotions are involved."

An image of Michael flashed before his eyes, tilting her head up for his kiss. "But what if I lose perspective because of my emotions?" he asked, a little hollowness seeping into it. 

"Now we're getting somewhere." She nodded, satisfied. "Yes, you got caught up in a moment because of your attraction. But you also saw what no one else did. Wanting Michael isn't wrong, saving her isn't a failure, and a ripple in your dynamic now is to be expected."

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. "You've been talking to Number One," he accused.

"Yes? Yes. I told you I would. Was I being too subtle?"

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling like his brain was too big for his skull. "Ma..."

"Boundaries, respect, grown adult, I've heard it all before. Una called me and I'm glad she did. She's worried about you."

"I appreciate the shared sentiment," he tried. 

She simply continued as if she hadn't heard him: "Me? I'd like to reach through and give you a swift kick in the pants, but they haven't figured out that technology yet."

"Oh, so this will be the tough love treatment, then," he muttered. 

"Welcome to the conversation." She tilted her head at him. "You know what I think this is? You've been reading your own press."

Chris blinked at her. "That doesn't even make sense."

She gestured expansively, as if to the galaxy at large. "The great Captain Christopher Pike, paragon of Starfleet. Don't tell me it's not a thing; I'm your mother and even _I_ get the fawning. People see you as something beyond human, an ideal. And we all know those can't have flaws."

Chris swallowed, feeling that hit a shade too close to the mark. He knew his reputation. He tried to ignore it and focus on his job, but some days that was easier than others. Still... "I don't claim to be perfect."

"No, you just hold yourself to impossible standards." She studied him for a moment, softening a little. "And I also think some part of you is looking for an excuse."

Unbidden, Kat's words came back to him, pointing out the same thing. "Do you," he said, flat.

"If Michael's eschewing your physical presence, you can feel righteous in not pushing for anything more. Not talking about what happened."

"We talked."

" _She_ talked. Unless you're telling me you two discussed the underlying attraction?" she challenged. 

Chris winced. 

"Didn't think so. There's a little bit of martyrdom going on here and you're using it to justify your avoidance." 

Chris frowned. On some level, he knew she was right. He could have brought up the attraction, but he hadn't. It was Michael's choice, but it was his, too. They both knew it. Hell, Number One, too. 

He sighed, long and low. "Even this hurts," he admitted, remembering the sting of Michael tensing up. "Just this."

"It all hurts," his mom agreed, nodding in sympathy. "But there's beauty in it, too. You just have to be willing to take the risk."

"To open myself up to more pain."

"No, darling. To love." She smiled softly at him. "I want that for you. But it's a choice you have to make."

***

Things continued on like that, Chris clocking the way Michael would tense under his scrutiny, in his presence. Despite his mom's words, he didn't bring it up with her. Yes, part of it was his own hesitation and sense of self-preservation, but there were larger issues at play. Michael had been through something awful. He didn't want to cause her any more pain by delving into it. It wasn't necessary just to make himself feel better. 

He didn't want to hurt her. So he did nothing. 

***

Chris was just about done with dinner, the evening crowd sparse, when Tilly appeared at the mess doors and made a beeline for his table, a reluctant Michael following behind. They made no move to get food, Tilly taking the seat catty-corner to him without asking, a gleam in her eye. 

_Caution_ slipped through Chris. "Ensign," he greeted, neutral. 

"Sir," she shot back, nodding a little. She glanced up at Michael, who stood awkwardly by the small white table, looking like she was a hot second from bailing.

"Sit," Tilly said, something Chris didn't recognize in her voice. 

"Tilly," Michael protested. 

"If you don't sit people will just stare and you'll call more attention to yourself," she shot back. 

Michael immediately took the seat across from him. Tilly smiled her victory, then turned to Chris. "So you've had an unfortunate makeout."

Chris blinked at her, surprised that she knew, that she would just bring it up, like this was a topic casually discussed. 

But no, that tracked, he realized. Michael tended to tell Tilly things. And she was...outgoing. 

Chris kept his expression neutral as he turned to Michael, gauging her reaction. 

Michael tilted her head in the way that meant _sorry_. "She pestered it out of me."

Tilly made an affronted noise. "I believe you mean I used my really quite impressive interrogation skills—"

"Harassment."

"Persistence."

"Annoyance," Michael corrected, long-suffering. 

"Hey, whatever gets the job done, am I right?" Tilly grinned at Chris, totally unrepentant. 

Chris shot Michael a soft look. He wanted her to understand. "My discretion was for you, above all. It was always your story to tell." 

Michael looked like she didn't know what to say for a moment, then nodded. "I do appreciate that." She held his gaze, some kind of awareness stretching between them.

Tilly cleared her throat. "As I was saying, you've had an unfortunate makeout," she said, sounding like one of those old self-help videos, offering the keys to happiness. "And now things have gotten weird. Let's make them less weird." She turned to Michael. "So, talk. How do you feel about everything?"

Michael winced and looked down. "This is quite literally a nightmare scenario," she muttered.

Even though he was desperate to know, Chris figured that was his cue. He looked to Tilly, donning a hint of firmness. "We already discussed the matter."

"Clearly not well enough," Tilly shot back. "Even Rhys can sense the tension between you two on the bridge and he's oblivious. Like, I had to walk up and tell him I wanted to have sex with him, no, really, and he still kinda didn't believe me. _That_ oblivious."

Chris shot Michael a disbelieving look. 

"Yes, she is always like this," Michael confirmed. 

Tilly waved frustrated hands at them. "You're evading the point. Unfortunate makeouts! Weirdness! It needs to stop. For me, if nothing else."

"Well, if it's for you..." Chris drawled.

"Hey, whatever gets the job done," she said, delighted with herself. Then she raised her hand for a high five: "Our callback game is A-plus, come on, you know it. Don't leave me hanging."

Chris just shot an unimpressed look at her hand.

"Tilly," Michael said, the quiet note there cutting through Tilly's performance and sobering her instantly. They locked eyes, Tilly pulling her hand back, frowning. 

After a moment of silent communication, Michael looked to Chris, serious. "I know we agreed to put it behind us, but I can't help but feel like...I wronged you."

Chris blinked, surprised again. She thought _she_ had wronged him? Ridiculous. He shook his head, trying to convey reassurance. "You didn't."

"I feel like I did. That's why I've been—" She gestured to herself, helpless.

"You weren't in control. I was."

"I still manipulated the situation. It forced things to the surface that you were keeping private. I haven't enjoyed it when that's happened to me, so I've been...wrestling with the idea that I'd done it to you."

Chris could _see_ that in her, the guilt hovering around her eyes. With it, everyone pointing out his excuses came crashing over him in a wave, all the people who knew him and loved him and unrelentingly called him on his shit. And here Michael was, hurting. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than taking that burden from her. "Michael, I'm not ashamed of my feelings. I wasn't hiding them because I didn't want you to know. I just never wanted to put you in a position where you felt pressured."

Michael blinked a few times, like he'd said something revelatory. "...oh." She seemed at a loss, like she didn't know where to go with that. 

Chris ignored the pounding of his heart, the shade of disappointment that she hadn't instantly replied that she wanted him, too, and eased them out of it: "I don't hold any of this against you. You shouldn't hold it against yourself." 

She swallowed, nodding a little. "Thank you. For telling me." Then she seemed to falter, shooting a quick, helpless look at Tilly. 

Tilly instantly picked up the ball. "Well, I am impressed with all the sharing we've done here. Good talk, team. I think we can call it a night." With a firm nod, she stood, her look urging Michael to do the same. 

Chris smiled a little, the disappointment receding as fondness swept through him. Tilly was a good friend. 

Michael abruptly pushed herself to her feet, looking anywhere but at him. "Yes. Um. Goodnight, Captain." She nodded once, awkward, then turned and headed for the door. 

Tilly lingered behind, eyeing Chris speculatively. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shook her head. "You're a good egg."

And then she was off, striding after Michael, leaving Chris behind to contemplate how he'd brought up the underlying feelings and still had no clarity. 

Because nothing could ever be simple. 

***

The next day things seemed easier between them, if Chris was any judge. The bridge didn't feel quite so tense, even if nothing concrete had changed. Crews were a living thing, so many people working in concert. There was a certain rhythm to it, an alchemy. Theirs had been off for a time, but everything seemed back to normal now. Chris allowed himself to appreciate the relief that brought, even if part of his mind was still turning over Michael's non-reaction to his feelings. 

They were still observing the subspace anomaly, for lack of anything better to do, really, when Chris clocked the chime from Michael's station indicating a report. 

"Results of our anomaly study, Captain," she said, brisk.

Chris looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

"It'll be clearer for you to see it from here, sir," she said, nodding for him to join her. At her station. The place she hadn't wanted him for days now. 

She was inviting him back. 

Chris stared at her for a moment, more relief sweeping through him as he understood this for the gesture it was. He stood and moved to her, eyes going to the data readouts, though he didn't focus too hard on the brightly colored graphs before him. They weren't particularly relevant.

"The anomaly sucks in all the signals around it and spits them out in random combination. One just happened to approximate the red bursts," she said, pointing to said signal as it mapped onto an overlay of their red bursts. 

"Indeed," he said, looking over to her. "Thank you, Commander," he finished, knowing she'd hear the layers to it. 

Michael nodded, matter of fact. "Of course, sir."

Chris pulled himself away from her station and headed back to his chair, ignoring how his pulse pounded. It didn't mean anything beyond what it was: Michael letting him know she trusted him. That they could move past what happened. That in itself was enough. That was a _gift_. He shouldn't want more. 

No matter what the traitorous hopeful thing in his chest insisted. 

***

After that, it was like nothing had happened. It made Chris realize how much their rift had _bothered_ him. Of course he didn't like being at odds with his crew, but this was different. It was a very particular kind of ache, specific to Michael. The relief he felt was a weight lifted from his chest, like finally taking a breath on planet after a year on ship. 

Michael didn't tense up at his attention or his presence. They communicated easily, working together like they'd known each other for years, their dynamic back to the way it used to be. 

Well, mostly. 

Because Chris did catch her studying him in odd moments, something considering in her eyes. She always looked away when he noticed, seeming faintly embarrassed. But it wasn't like the looks of old. Those were more helpless fascination. This was something else entirely. 

But what it meant, he had no idea. 

***

The door to his ready room chimed, Chris granting entrance absently. He looked up as Nhan walked in, a PADD in hand. 

"Commander. What do you got for me?"

"Quarterly security eval," she said, handing over the PADD. "It's a real party."

Chris shot her a half-smile. "Oh, joy." He expected that to be it, so he raised an eyebrow when she didn't move to leave. "Something else?"

"That thing in Burnham hit on you, didn't it?" 

Something hot _leapt_ within Chris, sudden discomfort at this private thing being known. But he didn't give in to it, instead dropping his chin to his chest. "Not you, too," he grumbled. Then he looked back up, setting the PADD on his desk. 

Nhan simply raised an imperious eyebrow, demanding an answer without ever saying a word. 

The women in his life, he swore to god. 

And then his brain made the connection. "Let me guess: Number One called you," he said, resigned. 

"We have a standing update call," Nhan allowed, unrepentant. 

Chris blinked at that completely new piece of information. " _That's_ how she's been getting her intel? _J'accuse_."

"Save the slang for Saru," she said, dry. 

Which, fair. "Why are you updating Number One?" he grumped. "She's got a whole ship of her own to worry about. Besides, you work for me."

"That's cute," she dismissed and really, he got no respect from the _Enterprise_ crew. None at all. "I notice you still didn't answer my question."

"Because I'm the captain and I don't want to," he shot back.

"Does this strategy usually work for you?"

"Literally never," he admitted. Number One was a tyrant who was impervious to rank. It was really quite something. 

Nhan smirked at him a little. "We all noticed the tension between you two after she recovered. And you never did say how you knew about the iffrijt. Now her eyes are glued to your ass. It doesn't take a tactical genius."

Chris flushed at that image, Nhan's words painting a picture that sent heat slipping through him. He instantly controlled himself, going for the joke: "Eh, don't sell yourself short."

Nhan nodded at the compliment, something pleased hovering around her lips. Still, she waited, seeming serious about her question. 

Chris sighed. "It's not mine to tell," he finally allowed, conflicted about it. Michael had been telling people, like Tilly, but Chris still didn't feel it was his place. 

Nhan seemed to read that in him, surprised. "Oh, you _want_ her." 

That heat flared again, sweeping through him at the thought he could be so easily read. He didn't...do this. He hadn't done this in years. He was pretty good at giving his crew _nothing_ to gossip about and he hadn't planned to change that. 

Enter Michael.

Nhan blinked a few times as she processed it...then nodded decisively. "I'll talk to Tilly."

"Whoa, hang on. Let's not get out over our skis here." 

"You won't do anything direct because you're honor-bound to defer to Burnham. Tilly knows how to properly motivate Burnham. It doesn't take a tactical genius," Nhan said again, looking at him pointedly, as if he should have thought of this. 

"I can't...push," he said, maybe a shade helpless, but hell, it wasn't like they weren't already deep into the personal here. Wholly against his will, but that ship had sailed. Damn Number One anyway. 

Nhan studied him, marveling a little. "Human courtship is weird, but this is a new one, even for you guys."

"I'm not—"

But Nhan cut him off with a knowing smile. "Don't worry, Captain. You may not be able to push, but your rules don't apply to the rest of us."

And with that, she was gone. 

***

Chris walked into the science lab that night, surprised to find Michael the only one left. She stared at the holographic displays, showing side-by-side brainwave readouts that looked identical, her brow furrowed like this was a grand conundrum. He read the tiredness in her expression, though it didn't diminish the little pulse of pleasure that shot through him at sight of her. 

At his entrance she looked over, visibly startling at his presence. "Sir." Her eyes instantly flitted back to the displays, almost like she was guilty. Like she didn't want him to see. 

"Commander," he said, matching her level of formality. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Michael looked back at him, hiding her unease behind a mask. "My fault. I was lost in thought."

Chris looked to the scans again, curious now. Why would she not want him to see these? "What are you working on?"

"It's nothing."

Chris deliberately flicked his eyes to the scans, then back to her. It clearly wasn't nothing, which they both knew. He wouldn't push if she really didn't want him to, but he needed more clarity from her on that.

Michael sighed. "It's—I was going over my brain scans. Comparing my normal ones to those taken when I was under control of the iffrijt."

"...oh," Chris said, not expecting that. "Was there something specific you were looking into?"

A vaguely mutinous expression flitted across her face, quickly hidden. "I just wanted to...understand."

Something at which she was obviously failing, she didn't want to discuss, and she didn't need him to belabor any more. 

He nodded, smiling a little to let her know it was okay, he wouldn't pursue it. "Let me guess: you were first in your class in everything," he drawled, lightening his tone, drawing her out. 

It worked, Michael looking at him like she was trying to figure out where he was going. "You're one to talk, Astro aside."

Warmth slipped through him at that. "So you were paying attention."

"Don't look so proud of yourself; failing a core class is hardly something to crow about."

"It got you to take notice, didn't it?" he shot back, warming more. She remembered. She remembered his service record, the glaring outlier, an idle thing he said to charm the crew his first time on the bridge.

She _remembered_.

Michael looked away then, seeming a shade flustered, so Chris redirected. "Over the years I've seen a trend: officers who were the best students get the most frustrated when they can't find the right answer."

"And the slackers just carry on?" she shot back, a tinge of amusement there. 

"Everyone has a role to play," he said, light. "The point is, just because you want an answer, doesn't mean there is one."

Michael blew out a breath, like the thought had occurred to her and she really didn't want to entertain it. 

Chris took a step closer. "Even if there is, maybe it's time to knock off for the night. Start fresh tomorrow."

Michael focused on him, her frustration bleeding away to become something curious. Almost bemused. "Your solution to my work problem is to stop working?"

"You say that like it's contradictory or something." 

"You say that like it's not." Her lips curled in the barest hint of a smile. 

"Here's what I know: you, Michael Burnham, are a damn genius. If you're banging your head up against something, it's time to take a step back. Grab dinner, unwind. Your brain will still be working on it in the background. And it has the added benefit of giving you time to rest."

"Says the man who came to the science lab even after his shift was over."

Chris shot her an innocent look. "Do as I say, not as I do?" 

Michael just laughed at him, the sound warming him somewhere hopeless and pathetic. But hell, if he'd gotten her from frustration to laughter in the span of a few minutes, he was doing all right. 

Chris tipped his head, playing it up a little. "All right, fine. Guilty as charged. I thought Reeves might have something for me."

Michael nodded. "The computer is running the analysis as we speak. I imagine you'll have results in the morning."

Chris nodded. "Thanks." Normally, this would be where he'd invite the other person to join him for dinner, but given...everything, it might seem like a come-on. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. So he just smiled his easy smile and nodded to the console again. "Seriously, call it a night. It'll still be there in the morning."

Michael smiled again, but it was tighter now, like she sensed some of his hesitation. "Thank you, sir. You have a good night."

"Likewise." He nodded and left her there. 

Even if he didn't want to. 

***

"Oh, come on. You had plausible deniability. You could have tried for dinner," Number One said, frowning at him from beside the desk in his quarters, like the Ghost of Christmas Present come back to _haunt him_. 

"Why do I tell you things?" Chris marveled, dropping back onto his couch. "You just use the insight to berate me."

"Because I've trained you well and you want to be berated. I blame your father for that last part," she added, like it was no big thing. 

He took a breath as that landed. "Jesus," he muttered. 

"Yeah, I blame Him, too," she nodded, never missing a beat. 

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. "My motivations aside, we agreed no meddling."

She scoffed. "That's some revisionist history you got there."

Chris ignored that and continued on: "Instead I hear you're talking to everyone. Mom, Nhan. Next I'm gonna find out you've started secret back-channels with Ensign Tilly."

Number One looked at him like he was a particularly adorable child. "Oh, Chris. I would never keep that secret. Sylvia's hardly shameful."

He groaned, not even a little surprised. He gestured at her form grandly. "I could do with a little more shame over there."

Number One nodded. "I know and it's one of your biggest flaws. If you just let go of all these antiquated notions..."

"What, respect? Discretion?" 

"Celibacy?" she offered, innocent.

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. "You realize you concern yourself with my dick more than I do?"

"And yet somehow you think that's _my_ problem and not yours," she mused. 

Chris sighed. "I am deeply frustrated."

"I'm trying to help with that," she said obviously.

He shot her a look. Then he subsided, considering the question, thinking back to the science lab with Michael, what he'd really wanted. "I couldn't try for dinner. Even I'm not sure the invitation would've been wholly innocent." He'd like to think so. He could move on when affections weren't reciprocated. The problem was it still felt unresolved, for all that he'd told her of his feelings. 

He just didn't know what _she_ felt. 

Number One studied him, like he was some foreign thing and not her captain of many years. After a silent moment: "It is _beyond_ me how you ever got yourself laid." 

Chris nodded, once. "And we're done here."

She just smiled, a shade devious. "Really, what would you do without me."

That? That was downright concerning. 

***

Chris put Number One out of his mind, going about his business like the professional he was. On the bridge, Michael was as welcoming as always, behaving normally, though at moments he could feel her eyes tracking him again. 

He didn't know what that meant...and he couldn't exactly ask. So he let it lie. 

It was the prudent play. 

***

Chris yawned, shifting on his couch, pulling himself out of the PADD and its endless reports. He looked around at his quarters, feeling the tiredness creeping over him. He should probably call it a night. As he'd told Michael, the work would still be there in the morning. 

The door chime sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room, startling Chris, scattering his thoughts. He stared for a moment, that sense of inevitability slamming down on him again, even as he didn't understand why. Why would Michael come calling again?

"Come," he said, setting the PADD aside, the déjà vu hitting hard. He stood, taking stock of his pajamas, his feet bare. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before, but still.

And then Michael walked in, seeming almost tentative. She took him in, swallowing and looking down for a beat. "I'm interrupting."

"No," he said, keeping his voice soft. He wanted to know why she was here. He didn't want her to leave. "Are you okay?" he asked when she didn't seem inclined to go on, busy studying his rug. 

That did the trick, spurring her to look up at him. She opened her mouth, seemed to shake herself, and then closed it again. Finally, she decided on: "I'm not sure."

Chris frowned. That didn't sound good. He gestured to the couch, trying to project openness. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

Michael's eyes flicked to the couch, the PADD on the coffee table, one of his southwestern blankets tossed aside, before returning to his. "It's—the problem is—I just—" She shook her head, like she couldn't settle on an opening. "I don't know what was me," she finally said. 

Chris felt his brow furrowing, not understanding. "In what context?"

Michael gestured to his figure, vague. "When we were—I told you, it was like the iffrijt was trying to merge our consciousnesses. It wanted to feel. And it did. I just, I don't know what was my reaction and what was its...reaction," she finished, like she was searching for the words. 

Chris nodded slowly, thinking that through. "It makes sense that it would be unclear."

She nodded back, something still hesitant in her eyes. "I haven't been able to...move past it. I was talking to Tilly, who's been talking to some others and she thinks—I just—will you kiss me?" she finally asked on a rush of breath, like she just wanted to get it _out_. 

Chris blinked, utterly thrown, surprise mixing with a spark of interest he instantly clamped down on. His feelings were...not even close to important. Not faced with Michael saying she couldn't grasp the boundary between herself and the thing possessing her and she needed his help to decipher it. 

She _needed_ him. 

"Yes," he finally answered, keeping his expression open. 

"...really?" she asked, clearly expecting a rejection. 

"Of course. Whatever you need from me, Michael."

She stared at him, as if she still couldn't believe the conversation was going this way. "Oh. Well. Thank you." She clasped her hands together, like she didn't know what to do with them and just needed to do _something_. Like she was nervous. 

Sympathy flooded through Chris as he realized she didn't know how to go about getting the kiss she'd just asked for. She looked around, gesturing vaguely. "Should we—" she broke off, flummoxed, and he decided taking charge was probably the kinder thing. 

He moved toward her, slowing when he saw her eyes widen. But she didn't seem unwelcome, just taken aback, so he didn't stop, carefully stepping into her space. Michael stared at the plain gray sleep shirt he wore for a blank moment, then raised her eyes to his. "I didn't expect you to agree," she admitted.

Chris raised his hand to her cheek, stroking the backs of his fingers against her skin. Remembering the last time he'd done this. But this time it was _her_. "We don't have to," he offered, wanting her to be sure. 

Michael turned her head, breathing _out_ against his fingers, eyes still wide, but with something else now. "Please," she said, low, the rush of air tickling sensation along his skin.

That was enough for him. He flipped his hand and cupped her cheek, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, light, more of a whisper of a kiss than anything. 

Michael made a soft noise and pressed closer, her hand clasping his gray shirt and curling into it. 

Chris took that as encouragement and kissed her harder, a firm press of mouths that shot straight through him, _Michael_ tingling along his senses. He used the hand on her cheek to tilt her head, breaking the kiss and returning for more, his arm circling around her and pulling her into his body. Her warmth seeped into him as they kissed, Chris marveling at how delicate she felt when he knew for a fact she wasn't. 

Michael made a helpless noise and opened her mouth against his, kissing him harder, the hand not tangled in his shirt landing in his hair and gripping. 

He took the invitation and dipped his tongue into her mouth, brushing hers lightly before he retreated, the taste of her seeming familiar for all that they'd done this only once. 

Michael responded in kind, circling his tongue with hers, and like that it went molten, sudden arousal burning along his spine, Chris groaning as he pulled her closer, _taking_ her mouth. This was the kind of kiss that staked a claim, a naked invitation. The kind that said, _I want you, come to bed_. 

And she responded, tangling their mouths together, making those hot little noises that drove him to distraction as her body instinctively moved against his, lighting him up. He was already half-hard, just from this, so he pulled his hand from her lower back to her hip, stilling her, even as he explored her mouth, fiery. 

With an agonized noise, Michael tore herself away, stumbling back, panting. Chris let her go, taking in her puffy lips and the wild eyes that refused to meet his, satisfaction slipping through him. _He'd_ made her look like that. He tried to control his own breathing, his heart beating wildly in his chest, pulsing at the base of his cock. 

Michael brought a shaky hand up to her mouth, then aborted the movement, still looking everywhere but at him. "That's—thank you, sir," she said, abrupt. 

Then she turned and walked out. 

***

Chris jerked off to the memory of that kiss. It was quick and visceral and even as he panted, come covering his fist, he still _wanted_. 

Dammit.

***

The next day was surreal in how _nothing_ changed. Michael acted exactly as she always did, like they hadn't been wrapped around each other a mere eight hours earlier, sharing taste, heat bleeding between them. It actually made Chris doubt himself for a moment...until the memory of that kiss slammed down on him, Michael's hot little noises echoing in his mind, stirring his body's response. 

He forced those thoughts aside to focus on the job. It got easier as the day wore on, but he could never fully put it out of mind. He had no idea how Michael was managing it. 

Even worse, he found himself...hoping again. He knew he shouldn't. The kiss was purely to help Michael untangle her own experience. That could be _it_. 

But part of him wouldn't accept that. And that worried him.

***

Chris submitted the repair report to Kat, then closed out his console with deep satisfaction. He was done for the day, no more reports or questions or Michael working with him easily without ever hinting at their kiss. 

Her ability to compartmentalize was unreal, he'd decided. And impressive.

Chris stood, stretching a little—

And the door to his ready room chimed. Chris frowned. Something about it didn't feel like Michael...and he certainly hoped if someone was going to add yet another bureaucratic task to his plate, they'd wait until the morning, but there was nothing for it. "Come," he called.

 _Tilly_ walked in. "Good, I caught you," she said in her no-nonsense voice. 

"Oh, no," he muttered, alarms ringing in his head. 

Tilly looked at him with barely-contained glee. "Oh, yes."

"Oh, God," he said. 

"Now that's a little dramatic."

Chris shot her a dry look. "Is this _not_ going to be something deeply personal and intrusive?"

"Psha, it totally is," she said, easy, like he should know better. 

"Then the sentiment stands."

"Okay, I'll let you have that one." Then she smiled, bright, and took a seat before his desk. "So you've had a fortunate makeout," she intoned, clearly playing for the laugh. 

Chris just stared at her. "Really, must you?"

"Oh, come on, join me in the callback game, you know you want to."

He dropped into his chair with a sigh, resigning himself to this conversation. On its heels came curiosity. Maybe she could offer some insight. "What can I do for you, Ensign?"

"Knock the formality off, for one, jeez. I feel like I'm about to get a performance review. I'm getting performance anxiety just thinking about it."

"Yes, be scared of me. Go with that," he shot back. 

She clapped her hands, delighted. "You're gonna be such fun. I am so impressed with Michael's taste."

Chris felt his face fall a little, nothing he could control. "I don't know about that," he said. 

"Yeah, I get why you'd say that. Look, I know she told you about Tyler, but did she _tell_ you about Tyler?" Tilly asked, gesturing emphatically. 

"No," he said, trying not to let his curiosity through. He was still desperate to know, even as he knew it wasn't his business. 

"Didn't think so." Tilly shook her head, red curls bouncing. "Michael has no sense of when she needs to _tell people things_ ," she said, impassioned. Then she cocked her head. "We're working on it."

"Ensign..."

"Don't pretend, you're dying to know." Then she took a breath, going serious. "The thing about Tyler is Michael trusted him. She fell hard and she fell fast and she _trusted_ him." Her big blue eyes implored Chris to understand. 

"And then he turned out to be a Klingon spy." Chris nodded, getting it. 

"Who killed Culber. Who tried to kill _her_. After Michael _covered_ for him. And then he called her a coward for breaking it off. Like, _worst relationship_ ," Tilly insisted, clearly still deeply offended by these events, even now. 

Chris' mind raced, working through too many things at once, trying to reconcile all that with what he knew of Tyler, what he'd seen of his dynamic with Michael—and she still called him _a good man_?—trying to keep his emotions in check—rage and betrayal and hurt, none of which were helpful right now. 

Tyler had tried to _kill her_?

"I see," he finally said, voice even. 

"Yeah, exactly. I was there, too. Like, 'fuck you, buddy, you're done.' But he's a victim, too, and people have weak moments. Michael is understanding about it, so we're all rising to her empathy."

Chris swallowed. It might take him a bit to find his way there, but he didn't need to tell Tilly that. 

She seemed to read it anyway, but moved right along, eyes boring into him again. "So you see why, after that, Michael was super done with relationships."

Understanding slammed down onto him. Of course she wouldn't want to get involved with anyone after that kind of betrayal. Who would?

Chris nodded, resigned. 

Tilly sighed. "And then you beamed on board." She sent him an appraising look. "I mean, I get it, you're smoking hot—don't do the whole humble routine, you've looked in a mirror—and principled and _open_. Basically, just what the doctor ordered. Do you even know how much Michael angst I've been dealing with? She was _done_ with relationships," she insisted, vaguely disgruntled, like this was a long-term argument. 

Chris...had absolutely no idea what to say to that. "...sorry?" 

"Eh, don't be, it's for the best. Vulcans are crazy-repressed, so anything that forces Michael to remember she's human is a-okay in my book. Lust is good for that."

Unbidden, Chris flushed. The idea that Michael had thought of him—that she _wanted_ him...he'd always tried not to go there. 

Tilly propped her chin on her hand, delighted. "This is adorable."

Chris controlled his reaction, waving that away. "Were you going somewhere with this?"

It snapped her out of her bemused contemplation. "Oh, right. Just—that's why. She was all about you even before her mission, but fighting it because Tyler was shitty, and then the iffrijt went and forced it out into the open. Then she didn't know what to do. I mean, you're the captain. She doesn't even know what to call you."

"Chris?" he offered. 

Tilly nodded. "That's what I said, but you know. Michael." She sighed and shook her head. "She's just...fighting with herself right now. Her hope is at war with her caution. That's what's been going on."

Sympathy swept through Chris, so many things making more sense. The staring and the hesitance and _that kiss_. He looked at Tilly, putting the gratitude in his eyes. "It helps."

Tilly smiled a little, relieved. "Don't give up on her just yet, okay? She'll work it out."

Chris nodded. "Thank you."

"No prob, bob. It's what I'm here for." She stood, readying to leave.

"I'll keep it between us," Chris promised, wanting to give Michael that respect. 

Tilly looked back at him, almost amused. "I mean, the whole crew knows about Tyler. And I already told Una I was gonna talk to you about it, so." 

Chris stared, not quite sure where to even start. "Please don't...do that," he finally said, helpless. 

Tilly actually laughed out loud. "Seriously? Una knows all the dirt and speaks in nonlinear differential equations. She's basically my hero, so you're gonna have to fight me for her."

"But she doesn't even work here," he tried. He had to _try_. 

She flicked dismissive fingers. "Like that matters. Just accept it, sir. You're loved and you have no control over it." She grinned. "You have a good night now."

On that cheerful note, she bopped out. 

In the ensuing stillness, Chris just breathed, marveling at the _magnitude_ of trouble those two could cause. After a few silent moments, he finally laughed. 

Loved, indeed. 

***

Things continued on in a kind of holding pattern for the next few days, everyone carefully pretending that everything was totally, completely, inoffensively normal. Michael was normal. Tilly was aggressively normal. Chris just went about his normal business like any other normal week.

Nhan watched it all, a smirk on her face, but that was normal for her, too, so all around it seemed like a rousing success for the status quo. 

The only question was, when would all the normalcy break?

***

The door chime startled Chris from the surprisingly entertaining inventory report. He looked over to the doors in surprise, taking in the stillness of his quarters for a moment. Even though he knew Michael would likely approach him at some point, this still caught him off guard. Not unpleasantly so, he had to admit, the heady feeling of anticipation starting to build. 

"Come," he called out as he stood from his desk.

Michael walked in, beautiful and precise in her uniform, holding a PADD. She nodded to him, a little stiff. "Cap—I mean...Chris," she said, almost like she was trying it out. 

Chris smiled in a way that said it was okay, gesturing her in. "Michael."

She moved to his desk, setting her PADD down and immediately activating it. A holo-diagnostic appeared, showing the brain and nervous system. "This is a scan of me from earlier today. You'll notice there are no green filaments, no sign of the iffrijt's presence," she said, gesturing to the clean scan.

"Okay," he said, drawing the word out, adding a lilt of curiosity to it. He wasn't following. 

"Okay," she agreed, nodding once. Then she stepped _in_ , her presence startling him as she tilted her face up to his and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was firm, but with an undercurrent of uncertainty to it. 

Chris _froze_ , surprise shooting through him, closely followed by the pleasure of having her near, her mouth on his, _wanting_ him. Without thought, his arms came up to frame her body, Chris automatically kissing her back, even as his thoughts tumbled over each other. 

Michael liked action. She had to be dragged into talking about things. Usually by Tilly. And here she was, taking action. 

As she relaxed into the kiss, her arms looping around his neck, Chris had to force himself not to fall into the sheer desire sparking along every nerve ending and _think_. They needed to talk, but he didn't want her to feel rejected if he pulled away. She understood action, after all.

Michael nipped at his bottom lip, a sharp _zing_ sliding through him, and Chris realized he had to stop this now. Before he lost his head completely. 

He cupped her face, peppering her mouth with short kisses, lightening the pressure with each one until he disengaged entirely, pulling back to take her in. 

Kiss-mussed was a really good look on her. He hoped he wasn't about to ensure he'd never see it again. 

As Michael realized he'd stopped, her eyes opened and met his, uncertainty already filling them. 

He stroked his thumb along her cheek, smiling softly. "Hey."

"Hi," she said, quiet. 

"This is nice," he said, nodding to their position, her still in his arms, the two of them wrapped around each other. 

"But..." she prompted, something cautious flickering in her expression.

"I'd like to talk about what we're doing," he said, keeping his voice gentle, trying to convey that it wasn't a _no_. 

Michael stiffened in his arms before abruptly stepping back. She nodded as she looked away. "Of course."

Chris sighed internally. This was going great. 

He noticed the holo-diagnostic still shining up from his desk and reached over to turn it off, getting her attention. He nodded to the PADD. "You wanted to prove you were yourself?" he asked, curious about the thinking here. Like she imagined that he'd happily hop into bed with her, no questions asked, so long as he knew it wasn't the iffrijt in control. 

Michael's brow furrowed. "Given what happened, it's only logical that you'd want assurances."

"I trust Dr. Pollard to do her job," he said, gentle. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

Michael looked down for a moment, like that struck some chord with her. Then she took a breath and looked back up. Being brave. "I told you I chose you."

Chris studied her, once again not following. "You did."

"That was true, but I think—I think some part of me was also testing you." Chris blinked, surprised again. He thought they'd come to an understanding about what happened, but Michael's expression told him that this other shade of it had been weighing on her. "Ever since you came on board you've been so...good. Honorable and true. A small part of me wondered if that was just a mask you wore. I wanted you to see me, but I...I wanted to see you, too."

She said it like she was accusing herself of something, but Chris couldn't find any of the same within himself. Instead, his heart _ached_ for her. Of course after Tyler's betrayal she would be hesitant to take romantic prospects at face value. Chris silently cursed Tyler, not for the first time, for breaking someone so precious. 

He smiled a little, letting her know he wasn't angry. "How'd I do?" he asked, keeping it light.

Michael stared at him, like she didn't know if he was serious. "You passed."

Chris flashed a quick grin at her, trying to put reassurance into it. "I'm not about to clutch my pearls and get offended, Michael. Given your history, it makes sense. Motivations can be multilayered. There's nothing wrong with that." He cocked his head, making sure to remain nonjudgmental as he continued, "I'm more concerned that you keep trying to bait me into pushing you away."

She opened her mouth...and then closed it again, like she was at a loss. "I don't _want_ you to push me away."

"Good, 'cause it's not gonna happen."

Michael stared at him, seeming stumped. "I just don't understand why you're not."

"I want you," he said simply, his pounding heart reminding him that while saying it might be simple, feeling it was...a lot. "Not just the easy, simple parts. _All_ of you." He took a breath, Number One's words echoing in his mind; he needed to ask for what he wanted. "I hope I've conveyed that without adding too much pressure. The thing is, much as I appreciate the thought, I don't need assurances that you're not being controlled by some alien parasite. I need to know how you feel."

The silence that followed, Michael staring at him, was more nerve-wracking than the bridge officer's test. Chris' pulse continued to pound, part of him worried for the answer, but most of him just desperate to finally _know_. 

Michael finally shook herself out of it, an air of confession around her as she said, "I've been desperately attracted to you since you took command and have spent every moment after trying to argue myself out of it."

Everything in Chris went hot at the admission, something clicking into place. _She wanted him_. And yet, still, this hesitation. "Why?"

Frustration leaked into her expression. "You're impossible. Honorable and decent and true. The epitome of Starfleet. It's like someone took everything I admire, distilled it into a wildly attractive man, and dropped him in front of me. And if there's one thing I've learned in the last year it's that if something seems too good to be true, trust that instinct."

Chris felt the pang of that, mourning for her lost faith. Caution was good, of course it was, but to be in a place where you doubted yourself to this extent...Michael didn't deserve that. 

He swallowed the emotion and stayed neutral. "I see."

Michael shook her head, like he didn't. "But I can't—it won't go away. You're impossible," she repeated, this time suffused with a yearning that sent _heat_ straight through him. "That's how I feel. I want to," she gestured helplessly as she searched for the word. " _Be_ with you," she finally finished, looking him in the eye. 

Chris swallowed the instinctive _yes_ rumbling within him. The problem was he could think of at least two interpretations of that, wildly different in meaning. 

"Be with me for tonight?" he asked, clocking her sharp inhale, controlling his body's response. "Or be with me in a relationship?"

Chris didn't know what he'd do if she said just for the night. He wanted her; of course he wanted her. The idea of leading her into his bedroom, peeling all the clothes off her, and touching her until she moaned his name in ecstasy was almost too much. But if it was just for some fleeting pleasure, even as sharp as his desire was, it gave him pause. To have her for a brief time, to know what it could be like, and then to lose it seemed far more painful than never knowing at all. 

He didn't want to _lose_ her. 

Michael stared at him, eyes luminous. "Does that have to be mutually exclusive?"

Chris blinked, hardly letting himself hope. "Both sounds good, too," he said, trying to keep it light even as he heard the wobble in his own voice.

Michael smiled at it, seeming relieved. "Okay." 

Chris ran a hand through his hair, trying to stay above the desire pulsing through him, trying not to go too far too fast. "I'm glad we talked. It might be wise to sleep on it—"

Michael stepped toward him, cutting off his words with that simple movement. She stared at him, eyes drifting to his mouth. "No," she said, moving in close. 

"No?" he asked, faint, gone breathless at her expression, like he was all she could see. 

Michael rested her hands on his chest, eyes meeting his again. "You've been distracting me for weeks. I want," she broke off, like she didn't know how to say it. Finally, she shrugged. "I want tonight."

Chris was nodding before he'd made a conscious decision. "Anything you want," he said right before he kissed her. He felt her lean into him, returning the kiss, and smiled a little, angling his head to kiss her again. He kept it soft, no rush now, not when they finally knew where they stood. They traded exploratory kisses, Chris marveling at the slow warmth buzzing through him, at the way Michael matched his pace, sighing against his mouth. Chris nibbled on her bottom lip, getting a smile as Michael pulled away, then dove back in, opening her mouth to his. 

But it still stayed sweet, Chris brushing his tongue against hers, barely, Michael following his lead, like she was luxuriating in this feeling. This time, when her hands started exploring it sent a rush of welcome through him. He wanted nothing more than for Michael to get her hands on him, to make those little turned-on noises as she gripped his shoulders. 

She pulled back, her lips a little puffy, eyes sleepy and hot. "Could I trouble you to take me to bed?" she asked, her voice husky. 

Chris flashed her a smile. "No trouble at all." He brought their mouths together again as he nudged her back, Chris guiding them into the bedroom by familiarity. He didn't stop until the backs of her legs hit the bed and she scooted back on it, eyes holding his, nothing but welcome in her. 

He crawled onto the bed next to her, running a soothing hand up her side as he settled close, kissing the tip of her nose for the smile. 

She didn't disappoint, the smile lighting up her face. He could spend hours looking at her, he knew, so beautiful and full of life. Dimly, he realized he could now. He didn't have to slide his eyes away, worried that his look might linger too long, that others might see. He could indulge in her. Chris relished the rush of that unexpected freedom. 

Michael seemed to sense it, raising a curious eyebrow at him. "You just had a happy thought."

"Did some of that Vulcan telepathy rub off?" he teased, rolling closer to her. 

"We'd have gotten here a lot sooner if it had. What?" she asked, nudging him gently with her body. 

Chris brought a hand up to cup the back of her head, taking her in. "I was just thinking that I don't have to be careful about how I look at you now."

Michael smiled, charmed, but trying not to show it. "You weren't that great at being careful before," she said, dry.

"I'm not the only one who's impossible," he shot back, unrepentant. 

"You better believe it." Michael flashed another grin right before she kissed him. 

Chris laughed into her mouth, rolling onto his back at her urging, liking how she took charge, exploring his mouth, hands pushing his sleep shirt up to trace the muscles in his stomach and chest. He groaned as she scratched down over his chest, Michael instantly stopping to pull out of the kiss and look at him. "Is this okay?" she asked, concern flaring. 

Fondness swept through him, blending in with the arousal already waking up his body. "Oh, yes," he rumbled. "I think we've established that I will stop you if there's a problem." He paused and made sure to look her in the eyes as he said, "I just ask that you do the same with me."

Michael nodded, matching his seriousness. Chris leaned up to brush a soft kiss over her mouth, Michael falling into it, the two of them slipping back into that heated moment. 

She pushed at his sleep shirt, going a little impatient. "Off," she mumbled against his mouth, Chris grunting assent. 

As he moved to pull it off, Michael leaned away, quickly unzipping her uniform jacket and tossing it aside, followed by her undershirt. The sight of her in a plain black bra sent a pulse straight to his cock; she'd come to his quarters to sleep with him and hadn't changed anything about herself to do it. She was who she was and Chris found it both endlessly charming and ridiculously arousing. 

He skated light fingers up her stomach as she leaned back down for his mouth, the kisses hot but not frantic. He trailed his fingertips over all the silky skin now bare, reveling in how good she felt under his hands. 

Michael pulled back from their kiss, eyes dark, her hands moving up to frame his face as she studied him, something heavy in her eyes. 

Chris felt light fingertips at the corners of his eyes and smiled. "You are so gorgeous," he murmured, struck again by the deep satisfaction that he could now _say_ it. 

She looked away, almost like she was bashful, but then shook it off, meeting his eyes again. "We both need to be entirely more naked."

Chris laughed again and reached for her pants while she worked on her bra. He pushed her pants and panties down, rolling her back and peeling them off her legs as she flung her bra somewhere. Chris tried not to let the sight of her, naked in his bed, derail him, but it was a close thing. He kissed his way up her legs, hands moving over the endless skin now revealed, tracing all her curves. She seemed slight, almost delicate, but Chris knew that was misleading. He scraped his teeth along her thigh, feeling defined muscles shift under smooth skin. 

"Chris," she gasped, landing a hand in his hair and tugging him upwards to meet her mouth. 

Their lips crashed together again, Michael wrapping herself around him, even as she made a displeased noise and plucked at his sleep pants. 

"I know, let me—" But he broke off with a moan as Michael rubbed herself against him, his erection trapped against her hip. He panted against her shoulder, mouthing down to her breast and sucking the hardened nipple into his mouth, getting an answering moan from Michael.

"I want you inside me," she breathed, one hand in his hair and holding his head to her breast, the other ineffectually tugging at his pants. 

Chris lifted his head, the stab of want at that image scattering his thoughts. But he shoved it aside, caution taking its place. "Don't you need—" He pressed his hand between her legs, gentle, surprised to find her _wet_. And not just a little wet—slippery and open and _ready_. Chris groaned as he slipped a finger inside her easily, Michael's eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. "Oh," he said dumbly, feeling how her body fluttered around his finger, silky and hot.

Michael opened her eyes and shot him an accusing look. "You've been distracting me for _weeks_ ," she insisted again, bringing a whole new meaning to it, one that swept fire through his blood as he imagined Michael wanting him, like this, for so long. 

Chris surged up and took her mouth, his finger sliding out of her as they fell together back on the bed, kissing frantically. It gave Michael the access she needed to shove his pants down, to find his cock with her hand and set about exploring. 

White burst across his vision as everything narrowed to the feeling of her hand on him, Chris pulling away from the kiss to pant harshly, trying to keep some control. "Michael," he warned, eyes closed, worried that if he looked at her he'd lose it completely. 

"Inside me," she insisted again, lining him up against where she was so wet, Chris gasping and opening his eyes because he was going to damn well _see_ this. 

Michael looked debauched and hungry underneath him, skin luminous as she urged him on. "Come on, come on..."

He groaned and sank into her, sliding in easily even as Michael gasped, her legs coming up to cradle his hips, his entire world narrowing to the pleasure now screaming through his body. It had been _so long_. He hadn't forgotten—you could never _forget_ —but the ecstasy burning through him was shocking, feeling it _everywhere_.

Chris tried to get himself under control as he bottomed out, leaning down to nuzzle at her chin, kissing her softly, but the feeling of her—warm and wet and rhythmically fluttering around him—seriously tested his resolve. "You okay?" he breathed against her mouth, in between kisses. 

Michael's heels digging into his ass was all the answer he needed. He shifted back and thrust in again, satisfaction slamming through him as Michael brought her hands up to grip at his shoulders and moaned. Chris set up a rhythm, subtly shifting angles, attentive to her response, trying to find what she liked best. He ignored his own pleasure, forcing it back, determined to make this good for her. 

The next time he sank in, Michael held him in place, making a negative sound against his mouth. Chris stilled instantly, but as he pulled back to ask what was wrong—

The room tilted as Michael rolled them. Chris got tangled up in the sleep pants still halfway down his thighs, his cock slipping out of her, but she didn't seem deterred, simply pushing him back and kneeing her way up to his hips. 

Chris stared, the sight of Michael, naked and hovering over him, stealing his breath. 

She noticed, eyes flying to his, quickly realizing. "Really?" she asked, lightly mocking. 

"You're a vision," he said, earnest, eyes flowing from her face to her heaving chest, down her belly to the dark hair between her thighs, spread as she kneeled over him. 

"Sweet-talker," she mumbled, but her tone was pleased. 

Before he could respond, she took hold of his cock, stroking him a couple times, before positioning him against her and sinking onto him with a gut-deep sigh. 

Chris gripped the sheets beside him as the pleasure hit, thoroughly unprepared for the sight of Michael raising herself up on his cock and then sinking back down, throwing her head back as she arched and got the angle just right. "Yes," she hissed, drawing out the 's' sound, something deeply satisfied in her voice as she set up a rhythm of her own, raising herself up and dropping down on him, her breasts swaying every time she did. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Michael," he muttered, fervent, spots in his vision, urgent pleasure pounding through him every time she bottomed out.

"So good," she breathed, staring down at him, eyes hazy and lost to pleasure. 

Tingling started at the base of his spine, Chris realizing he was _not going to last_. He levered himself up to sitting, pulling her close as she continued to drop down onto him, their mouths reconnecting. He pressed his hand between them as they kissed, finding her clit, Michael's whole body tensing as she broke the kiss on a surprised gasp. 

Chris grinned and touched her delicately, her movements becoming frantic, uncontrolled. "Just let go, Michael," he breathed, finding her mouth again. "I've got you."

She made some wordless sound into the kiss, needy and lost, sending another burst of fire through him that seriously challenged his control. Chris just kept playing his fingers over her clit, feeling her get closer, her noises increasingly desperate, until she finally shuddered, her body tightening around his cock as she came with a choked-off gasp.

That sound reached inside his chest and _squeezed_ , Chris losing his battle with control as something within him snapped, the orgasm rushing through him in long, ecstatic pulses, the edges of his vision going hazy with pleasure. The intensity overtook him, blanking his mind as bliss wiped everything else clean. 

Chris panted as he came back to himself, Michael still sitting astride him, the two of them wrapped around each other, both of them trembling, sweaty and tangled together, a mess. 

They stayed like that for a few long moments, Chris finding her mouth again, wanting to _remember_ this. Michael kissed him back, seeming just as desperate. 

But eventually they had to move, muscles starting to protest. Chris tipped them to the side, slipping out of her as they both rolled onto their backs, stretching out and breathing into the quiet. 

Echoes of pleasure pulsed through him as he stared up at the ceiling, the sweat already starting to cool on his skin. Beside him, he felt Michael shiver. 

He turned onto his side, moving close, not wanting her to get cold. Michael met his eyes and smiled a little, pressing against his body. It sent a burst of satisfaction through him, separate and apart from the pleasure of the orgasm.

Chris kissed her shoulder, dropping an arm around her, still marveling at the feeling of her skin. "You good?" he asked, voice a low rumble. 

Michael nodded, smiling softly. Then her grin turned a shade wicked. "And you're very good."

He huffed a laugh, moving in for a kiss, keeping it soft. "We're good together," he said, low.

She pressed her fingers to the corner of his mouth, humming in agreement. 

They stayed like that, curled around each other, bodies calming. After a few long moments, she shifted, something more serious entering her eyes. "Do you think—do you think we would have gotten here if not for the iffrijt?" she asked, almost tentative. 

Chris sighed as he considered it. "I don't know. I never would have pushed with you."

Michael nodded. "I might have kept arguing myself out of it," she admitted. "I don't know if I would have been brave enough to try for more."

"You're one of the bravest women I know," he said, gentle.

"Not with this," she said, voice small. "Tilly had to push me."

Chris smiled, thinking of all the lectures he'd endured. "I had a few nudges myself."

She warmed at that, seeming to read how long-suffering he'd been. Then it faded a little, though a hint of the warmth still hovered around the edges of her mouth. "However it happened, I'm glad we got here."

Chris grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing firmly. "Me, too."

***

The next morning, Chris kept rereading the same passage on his PADD, unable to keep hold of a thought, mind still back in bed with Michael, not in his cold ready room, prepping for the briefing. He shook off his distraction, again forcing himself to focus. Michael would be with him in the briefing, after all. Besides, he wasn't some love-struck fool. 

The comm system activated, Bryce's voice ringing out, "Bridge to Captain Pike."

"Pike here."

"Your Number One for you, sir."

Chris sighed. "Put her through."

A beat...and the ghostly holo of Number One appeared. She took one look at him—

And burst out laughing. 

Chris sighed again. He would literally never hear the end of this. "Good morning, Number One."

"I'll _bet_ it is," she said, lacing it with innuendo. "You realize you owe me, right? Me and Sylvia, but really me. I don't know how you're going to pay this one back...but I'll think on it."

Well, _there_ was a threat to start the day. "I have a briefing."

"Will Michael be there?" she asked, sweet as honey. 

"You know, some days, I really don't like you."

Number One raised a wicked eyebrow. "I'm betting this ain't one of them."

Just then, the ready room doors opened, Saru entering. He paused at sight of Number One. "Would you like me to return, Captain?"

Chris gestured him in. "No need. Number One was just going."

She grinned again, sharp and promising further mockery to come. But then it softened into something genuine. "I'm happy for you, Chris." With that, the holo blinked out. 

Saru cocked his head as he moved to the conference table, setting his PADD at his usual seat. Then he looked to Chris, seeming curious. "Captain, I realized I never asked: did you and Commander Burnham have that conversation you wanted me to relay?" 

Though he said it neutrally, something about it prickled along Chris' spine. "A while ago," he confirmed. 

"And I take it there's now...no more daylight between you," Saru said, his innocent tone still managing to be heavy with implication. 

Chris blinked...and stared, horror filling him. "Not you, too." He didn't need _anyone else_ meddling his personal life.

Saru's innocent façade didn't crack. "I can't imagine what you mean, sir."

"Uh-huh," Chris said, dry, his mind analyzing. "But wait, was that you giving me shit using an idiom and a pun _at the same time_?"

Saru just looked at him evenly. "And the student becomes the master?"

Chris laughed aloud. He truly got no respect. 

And he wouldn't have it any other way. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


End file.
